BIRDS'-NESTS 



ing a complete canopy, about an inch and a half 

 above it. The repeated spiteful dartings of the 

 bird past my ears, as I stood under the tree, caused 

 me to suspect that I was intruding upon some one's 

 privacy; and, following it with my eye, I soon saw 

 the nest, which was in process of construction. 

 Adopting my usual tactics of secreting myself near 

 by, I had the satisfaction of seeing the tiny artist 

 at work. It was the female, unassisted by her mate. 

 At intervals of two or three minutes she would ap- 

 pear with a small tuft of some cottony substance 

 in her beak, dart a few times through and around 

 the tree, and alighting quickly in the nest, arrange 

 the material she had brought, using her breast as a 

 model. 



The other nest I discovered in a dense forest on 

 the side of a mountain. The sitting bird was dis- 

 turbed as I passed beneath her. The whirring of 

 her wings arrested my attention, when, after a short 

 pause, I had the good luck to see, through an open- 

 ing in the leaves, the bird return to her nest, which 

 appeared like a mere wart or excrescence on a 

 small branch. The hummingbird, unlike all others, 

 does not alight upon the nest, but flies into it. She 

 enters it as quick as a flash, but as light as any 

 feather. Two eggs are the complement. They are 

 perfectly white, and so frail that only a woman's 

 fingers may touch them. Incubation lasts about 

 ten days. In a week the young have flown. 

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